“O, a kind o’ general cruise, I see; young adventurers, and all that. But I’m glad you took my advice, and didn’t go to Anticosti. A bad place. And how do they like Newfoundland?” “Wal--they--didn’t--quite git to Newfoundland, nuther,” said Captain Corbet, in a low, faint, hesitating, confused way. “No, of course not,” said Ferguson, briskly. “Too far away; I said so. You concluded to go to Gaspe, of course.” “Wal--n--n--n--no, we didn’t quite get--off--in that thar--de--rection,” replied Captain Corbet, who was utterly at a loss how to fight off this eager and inquisitive questioner. Had the good captain been capable of telling a lie, his task would have been easier; but he was a truthful man, and in this case he hardly knew what to do. “Well, come now,” said Ferguson, “where did you go?” Captain Corbet started at this point blank question, and was perfectly dumb. Ferguson looked at him with keen scrutiny, and then said,-- “You don’t answer. What’s the matter? Has anything happened? Where are the boys?” Again the unfortunate Corbet was unable to answer. “It’s a plain question enough,” said Ferguson, “and you’ve _got_ to answer it somehow--for I’m going down Nova Scotia way, and may see some of their parents. So, own up, old man. What have you done with the boys?” At this moment a happy thought occurred to the bewildered Corbet. It came like a ray of light in deep darkness. “Wal,” said he, “you see, capting--you know--them thar youngsters, you know--they--they’ve--got up a kine o’ secret society--you know--they told you--themselves--you know--and they’re all together--you know--and it’s a matter--of importance--to them--and to me--to--to--to--to keep the secret, you know. O, I do assure you it’s all right--they’re all safe an sound--an enjyin life; good quarters, plenty to eat an drink, an ole Solomon a doin of the cookin--but it’s a great secret, you know--and so--you see--capting--the fact is--I’d a _leetle_ rayther not let on where they air jest now.” Captain Corbet spoke this in a confused way, and in a mild, deprecatory manner. Ferguson listened attentively to his words, and then stood looking at him for some time with an air of dissatisfaction. “Well--old man,” said he, “I do remember some nonsense of theirs about a secret society; but you haven’t answered my question; you evade it; and what their secret society has to do with their present situation I don’t quite begin to make out. The fact is, I don’t consider you a fit guardian for such boys as they are, and my opinion all along has been that they’ll all get into mischief. I’m afraid that they’re in some fix at this particular moment, and that you have left them at the very time that you ought to be standin by them. If you don’t choose to tell me, I can’t make you--only I warn you, if the boys air in a fix it’s best to let me know, for I can go and help them sooner and better than you can.”